Space Echo: The Mystery Behind the Cosmic Sound of Cabo Verde Finally Revealed

The titular mystery in this mouthful of a title refers to a Baltimore cargo ship that was en route to Rio de Janeiro in 1968 but somehow ended up on the Cape Verdean island of São Nicolau, stranded in a field miles from any coastline. In its hold was, surprisingly, a booty of analogue synthesizers: the future course of the archipelago's music was duly set, at least for the subsequent couple of decades. The real mystery is why, after years of often insipid contemporary releases by the likes of Lusafrica, it's taken so long to release this stuff and give the ever larger market for Cape Verdean music a shot in the arm. Supplying that shot, in large part, is Paulino Vieira, the keyboard maestro and arranger who dominated the era and shaped its sound, and to whom Space Echo is dedicated. While Vieira's most powerful work was arguably cut in the 1970s, soundtracking Amílcar Cabral's struggle for independence from Portugal, this is nevertheless an excellent round-up of mainly early 80s recordings, largely dominated by the galloping rhythms of funaná (Cape Verde's accordion-based dance music). But there are also all manner of beguiling – and yes, cosmic – oddities, working a common thread of pre-digital electro through Afro-funk, blues and jazz. An epochal release.